Two of a Kind
by Boann
Summary: Alan and Fermat are anything but alike. But when an accident separates them from each other, they will find they are more alike than they think. Movie-verse.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I inherit no profit for the fiction and I own no characters, names or places over which prior copyright has been claimed.

As much as I enjoy writing about the Tracy family, I wanted to observe the relationship between Alan and Fermat closely as well. Two completely different people surely have a fascinating connection, and, as usual, it can take a major accident for those two people to realise what their special connection is.

Whilst I usually like to complete stories before posting, this one is a little fragmented, so please be patient and I promise I will update as soon as I can!

Reviews and any constructive criticism is, as always, much appreciated!

Boann

"I honestly don't see what was so interesting about a bunch of rocks," Alan moaned for the third time.

He, Fermat and a dozen other boys from Wharton Academy were on a bus returning to school from a geography excursion.

"What are you talking about Alan? It was s...s...amazing!" smiled Fermat, who was somewhat enjoying his friend's complaining.

"Well ok, maybe for nerds like you," teased Alan, rolling his eyes.

Fermat gave a small smile and went back to reading the notes he had taken earlier that day.

Alan gazed at him, shaking his head. "I don't know how you can do that."

"Do what?" asked Fermat, not looking up.

"Concentrate for so long."

Apart from a small 'mm', Fermat didn't acknowledge him, so Alan snatched the papers from him, holding them above his head.

"Alan, cut it out!" exclaimed Fermat.

"C'mon Fermat, take a break" laughed Alan, standing up to stop Fermat from catching the papers.

"Alan, stop it," said Fermat who was now jumping in an attempt to reach them.

"Tracy! Hackenbacker!"

Both boys froze and all chatter in the bus stopped at the voice of their strict geography teacher, Professor Torkin.

"You heard what I said before we left for this excursion! Any boy caught out of his seat will receive a detention! I'll speak to both of you when we arrive back at school."

Disgruntled, Alan and Fermat sat back down, but not before Fermat snatched the notes from Alan's hand.

"Hey!" exclaimed Alan, with a hushed voice. "What's wrong?"

"Just shut up Alan," whispered Fermat with a tone Alan and never heard him use before.

What's your problem?" Alan grabbed his friend's shoulder, spinning him around to face him.

"What's my p…p…problem? You are! Why can't you know when to c…c…stop?" hissed Fermat, his stutter becoming more predominant with his anger.

"It was just a joke, lighten up Fermat!" Alan struggled to keep his voice down.

Fermat was trying a little too desperately to flatten the crinkles in his notes. "Don't t…t…tell me to lighten up Alan."

Alan stared at his friend. "What's gotten into you? It was just a joke!"

Fermat gave a harsh sigh. "Why do you h…h…make fun of me for r…r…stupid things like this? Why? Now we're both in trouble because of you."

"Is that what the fuss is about?" Alan spat out disbelievingly. "You getting one measly detention?"

"It's ok for you, you're o…o…used to it," Fermat lowered his voice even further.

Alan fumed with an inherited temper. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Fermat glared at his pages. "You're always so im...im...reckless! You don't think about a...a...the consequences! Now y...y...both of us are going to pay the p...p...

"At least I can string a whole sentence together," Alan mumbled with gritted teeth. He instantly regretted it after seeing Fermat's shocked face. The two friends had shared their disagreements before and tolerated playful banter, but both knew that the mockery of Fermat's speech impediment crossed the line.

Alan sighed harshly, his anger building to frustration at the fact that his groveling would replace the string of well rehearsed throwbacks he'd been planning to give. "Look, I'm sorry, you know I didn't mean that," he grumbled.

Fermat's blue eyes held a new ferocity. "Ac...ac...To be honest, I'm not surprised. This is ex...ex...precisely what I mean. You don't think!" he replied.

"You get me riled up sometimes! You and your goody-two-shoes act! If I'm not good enough for you then you have a choice to make!" Alan retorted. "I don't force you to stick to me like glue!"

"Be careful what you wish for Alan!" Fermat's raised voice was dimmed by the chatter of the boys around them.

"Fine! At least I won't have to watch your back every step I take! And I won't have to put up with your dorky behaviour!"

"Well, I'm sorry if your image of w...w...perfection was ruined by me," Fermat replied. "Tell you w...w...this though, your d...d...family would sure be proud of you right now!" Fermat hissed.

It was Alan's turn to look shocked. Fermat was the one person he had ever confided to about issues concerning his family. From feelings of isolation to annoyance at brotherly banter, Fermat had heard it all and Alan had relied on him for close confidence.

"Shut up, Fermat!" he snapped. "You don't know anything about my-"

He couldn't finish.

Something crashed into the front left side of the bus, causing the entire side to crumple like tin foil. The windows shattered, spraying glass everywhere. The boys on the left side of the bus were thrown out of their seats and the boys on the right side, including Fermat and Alan, were thrown up against the side. Alan, who was sitting in the window seat, heard nothing but the screams of his fellow classmates and the creaking of the bus' hull as it slid across the bitumen and began to tilt slowly sideways. He braced himself and shut his eyes against the movement as glass pelted him from every direction. Fermat's weight against his left side increased his sense of claustrophobia as the entire world spun. The brutal impact of the bus smashing down on its side sent shudders of pain through his body. His head struck the side of the bus, sending him into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**My thanks to everyone who reviewed! A little note before this chapter: although I initially intended for this story to be told from Alan and Fermat's perspective, it occured to me that in order to provide critical information, I would have to use other characters as well, so it may, for a while, seem that the story turns away from the concentration on the two boys. Hopefully the changing of perspectives won't distract too much from the focus of the fic.**

**Boann**

Jeff brust through the doors of the ER like a battering ram. On his heels were Brains and Scott. He slammed into the reception desk. "Jeff Tracy. My son, Alan, was in the bus crash."

At the sound of his name, the receptionist stood up and ushered the three of them into a quiet room. "I'll find a doctor," she said. "Was it just Alan Tracy?"

"N…n…Fermat Hackenbacker," stammered Brains.

The receptionist nodded. "Wait right there," she said, closing the door behind her.

Jeff ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He'd first heard the news on the radio. A truck had lost control and had been unable to stop at a red light, crashing into a school bus carrying a dozen boys and their teacher. At first, Jeff had thought nothing of it, but then he and Brains had received telecalls from the hospital in Massachusetts, saying that both Alan and Fermat had been in the crash and had been admitted. Leaving the others behind to man the base on Tracy Island, Jeff, and Brains had set off to break speed records in Tracy One. Regardless of his duties as second in command, Scott had refused to be left behind and had jumped in the pilot's chair before Jeff could say anything.

Jeff's mind was racing. In the taxi from the airport, they'd driven past the crash scene. Behind the red tape, the bus had laid on its right side, the left completely crumpled. By the look of it, the truck, which was being towed away, had crashed headlong into the front left side of the bus. The driver couldn't have stood a chance. Glass completely littered the road. However much he had tried, Jeff hadn't been able to see anything inside the bus itself.

By now, he was going numb with worry. He wanted to see his son; to hold him in his arms and thank the heavens for another lucky escape.

The door opening interrupted his thoughts. A tall man in his thirties with broad shoulders, russet hair and a clean shaven face walked in. The white coat he wore over his trousers and shirt identified him as a doctor.

"Jeff Tracy? Hiram Hackenbacker?" his voice was deep and kind.

They shook hands.

"My eldest son, Scott," Jeff introduced.

The doctor shook Scott's hand as well. "I'm Dr Quaid, Head of Emergency in Paediatrics. I will be overseeing both your sons' treatment."

"Are they ok?" asked Scott.

"Mr Hackenbacker, Fermat will be fine. He's sustained a mild concussion, minor whiplash, a dislocated shoulder and some bruising, but I am confident he'll make a full recovery," Dr Quaid assured with a smile.

"Can I g...g...see him?" asked Brains.

"Of course, just go to the reception and ask for a nurse called Sarah, she'll take you to him," said Dr Quaid.

Brains looked at Jeff uncertainly at first, but Jeff nodded and smiled in encouragement.

Once Brains had gone, Dr Quaid addressed Jeff. "Mr Tracy." His voice was now melancholy, which made Jeff's insides squirm. Dr Quaid indicated for them to take a seat.

"Alan was lucky enough not to be on the side of the bus that was hit. However, because he was on the window side when the bus overturned, he did sustain more serious injuries, as did the other boys in his position," Dr Quaid gently explained. "The window he fell against smashed onto the road, causing some glass to be embedded into his face and right side, which we've removed and treated. He also sustained a dislocated shoulder, a few broken ribs and twisted his knee, which has done some tendon and muscle damage. He also sustained a head injury, which we're monitoring closely"

"Does he have to have surgery?" asked Scott, who looked giddy from following the long list.

"Not as such, but there is a chance he may have internal bleeding caused by the impact of the crash. We've already done some tests, which have come up negative, but smaller bleeds are often undetectable in the early stages. We just have to keep monitoring him and hopefully when he regains consciousness, he can help us determine whether or not something is out of place," said Dr Quaid.

"Can we see him?" asked Jeff.

Nodding, Dr Quaid showed them out of the quiet room and into the ward. Rows of cubicles covered by curtains showed the results of the bus crash. Dr Quaid showed them into one of the cubicles. Jeff rushed to his son's side. "Alan," he whispered, pushing back strands of blonde hair from his son's forehead.

"Doctor, how serious is the head injury?" Scott quietly queried as he bent over his little brother.

"The concussion is fairly severe, but as of yet it does not appear to have caused any major damage. Alan's return to consciousness will give us more answers than the tests will, but until then these tests will inform us of any changes. I'll be sending Alan regularly to have scans. I don't want to miss anything," the doctor replied.

Scott and Jeff could only nod at his assessment.

"I'll leave you be," said Dr Quaid. "Any problems, just give a shout. But for now, talk to him. Hearing your voices might encourage him to wake up."

"Thank you," said Jeff, pulling up a stool and looking Alan up and down. Alan was truly a mess. His pale face could hardly be seen behind the gauze that covered his right temple, the stitches from the glass, the bruising, and an oxygen mask. He looked so fragile, so unnervingly peaceful. It gave Jeff the shudders.

He held Alan's cool hand, in which an IV had been inserted. "Alan," he called gently, "Can you hear me? It's Dad."

Scott mimicked him. "Hey buddy, I'm here too. It's gonna be ok. You're safe."

Jeff silently blessed his eldest son. Scott was so in tune with his siblings, it astounded Jeff. He knew exactly how to talk to them and calm them and never seemed to be bothered by them leaning on his shoulder.

"Alan, open your eyes for me," called Jeff, praying to see his son look up at him

But Alan remained in his state.

---------------------------------

Fermat was bored, and very sore. He was propped up into a sitting position by pillows with Brains sitting in a chair by his bed, stroking his hand gently. Sarah, the nurse, had explained that he would need to remain in hospital for a few days under observation. Fermat couldn't see what the big deal was. His dislocated shoulder had been fixed, the sling on his arm being the only evidence of its existence. His back and ribs bore deep blue bruises but they were tolerable if he didn't move too much and he knew the headache would pass.

It had been scary being alone in the hospital, and he had been relieved when his Dad had arrived. Brains had tried to explain what had happened in the crash. But Fermat knew everything already. The nurses had thrown plenty of rumours and information about the crash between the wards for him to gain a clear perspective. As of yet, three of the twelve boys wouldn't be going home.

"I practically fell on top of Alan, then fell off the c...c...seat and hit the edge of it as I went down, which is how I dislocated my sh...sh...humerus," he explained to his father.

"You remember?" asked Brains, looking amazed at his son's calmness.

Fermat nodded. "It was b...b...horrible," he murmured, easing himself into his pillows.

He winced as his ribs protested. "There was a huge j...j...crash. The others were thrown out of their seats. The bus b…b…started tipping slowly. When it hit the road, it sent a jolt c…c…through me. I hit Alan, then fell in front of him, c…c…hitting the edge of our seat." Fermat cursed his stutter as it returned, along with the memories.

Brains rubbed his arm. "Its ok, you're going to be al…al…fine."

Fermat could see his Dad struggling to find the words to comfort him, but he didn't want sympathy. Some more important was on his mind.

"Dad, is Alan ok?"

Brains took his hand, giving it a squeeze in an awkward attempt at consolidation. "I'm not sure," he said quietly.

"Could you find out?" asked Fermat, almost pleading.

"No need for you to get up, Brains," said a voice.

Father and son turned their heads to see Scott walk into the room.

"Hey Fermat, how are you?" asked Scott, giving a warm smile.

"I'm o…o…fine," stammered Fermat. "Where's Alan, is he ok?"

Scott pulled up a chair opposite to Brains. "He's pretty messed up. Right now the doctor's main concern is the possibility of internal bleeding," he explained gently.

"Is he in surgery n…n…at the moment?" asked Fermat.

Scott shook his head. "He sustained a head injury in the crash and the doctors want to keep an eye on him. So far they've run a few tests, but they came up negative, so they have to wait until Alan wakes up or until any bleeding becomes apparent."

"He's not awake?" gasped Fermat.

Scott looked down briefly before saying. "No."

Fermat could see the stress on Scott's face. It made him dread to think of what Mr Tracy's condition was like. He was very protective of all his sons and Fermat knew he wouldn't leave Alan's side until he was forcefully dragged away.

Fermat looked solemnly at his dad. "Can I go and see him?" he asked.

Brains shook his head. "I'm sorry son, you need your rest."

Apart from the huge feeling of disappointment, Fermat felt scared for his friend. He'd thought of nothing else since he arrived at the hospital. Thinking about the last time he'd seen his best friend. Fighting over something as stupid as a detention seemed pathetic compared to this. He'd been angry with Alan, but right now all he wanted was to see him.

He wasn't surprised about the injuries Alan had sustained, and he knew Alan had gotten off pretty well considering some of the others. As much as he dreaded seeing Alan in the state he was in, he so desperately wanted to see him. Hoping the sight of him would reassure him that his best friend was going to be ok.

Scott seemed to be reading his thoughts. "Hey, he'll be ok," he reassured. "You know how stubborn he is."

Fermat nodded, but couldn't help feeling that Scott had said that to reassure himself rather than him.


	3. Chapter 3

By the evening, Jeff had reacquainted himself with the emergency ward. He'd been there too many times in his life, sitting at the side of a loved one. Hospitals brought terrifying memories of his children in pain. Over time he'd developed a solid stubbornness inside hospitals. He put himself last every time and refused to listen to anyone or anything that told him to do otherwise. By now he had withdrawn into this familiar sullenness. He'd been at his son's side for just over five hours and was determined not to leave until Alan woke up. He'd sent Scott to get himself some food and sleep. Scott, having learned to mimic his father's behavior to an extent, had obliged with the food, but rejected the idea of sleep.

Jeff gently stroked Alan's hair off his forehead. "Alan," he called quietly. "Alan, come on, sprout." He knew Alan hated the pet name, but somehow Jeff thought it would comfort him to hear it.

Bitter defeat threatened to overtake any hope he had of his son opening his cerulean eyes to look at him, but Jeff refused to let it.

Alan had been doing so well. After the events of spring break, Alan had gradually dealt with the post trauma. His grades in school had been improving and Jeff had agreed to begin training Alan to be a Thunderbird when the summer began.

Jeff sighed. _What was going to become of the Thunderbirds now?_

Jeff cursed himself. How could he be thinking of International Rescue when his youngest son lay unmoving before him? Over the years it seemed that his dream only added to the complexity of life.

The panic built up inside him again as he was reminded of the present situation. He clasped Alan's hand more forcefully. "Come on Alan, open your eyes," he pleaded. "You have to wake up Alan. Please…"

Alan's eyes remained stubbornly closed and Jeff let out a ragged sigh, finally admitting to the plain and simple fact that his son could not hear him. He forbid the tears in his eyes to fall; refused to break down.

"Alan, wake up," he pleaded. "It's alright, I'm here, wake up for me."

A hand rested on his shoulder. "Dad, let him sleep," Scott's voice gently told him.

---------------------------------------------

He wasn't floating. He wasn't sinking either. He felt like a weight trying to rest on a cloud. At the same time, one side of him (he couldn't tell which) was burning. He tried to see if something was out there with him, but realised that his eyelids were glued shut.

Suddenly he heard a voice; one he knew very well indeed.

"Dad?"

His attempt to call out was in vain. His throat was dry and it was too painful to move his lips. Maybe if he opened his eyes...He screwed up his face in frustration when the simple task proved too difficult. It was then he felt something covering his face down one side. Something was over his nose and mouth too. He didn't like it. He tried to move his hand in an attempt to dislodge the object but found the limb wouldn't obey him completely. But his movement brought about a new awareness; he was in a bed. A pillow was under his head and a light blanket covered him. Content with the return of feeling, he focused on sound.

"Alan? Alan can you hear me?"

"Dad?"

"That's it son. I'm here. Just relax."

Now more determined than ever to see, Alan pried his eyes open, only to be rewarded by a harsh flash of white light. Eliciting a small groan, he clamped them shut again.

"Try again, son. It's ok."

Alan was reluctant. What kind of a place would make opening his eyes so painful? "Where'my?" was all he could say.

"You're in hospital. Alan, can you open your eyes?" Jeff asked.

Alan ignored the request. If he was in hospital, something must have happened to him. Was he hurt on a rescue? No, the school term hadn't ended yet. Did he have an accident at school? He couldn't remember. All he remembered was a deafening roar and the frightened face of his best friend.

"Ferm't"

"Alan, just calm down. I want you to look at me, son," his father instructed.

Alan shook his head with a mumbled "No" then gasped as someone held a white hot poker to his skull. His movement resulted in the object covering his face to fall off but its absence didn't help the sense of claustrophobia. One of his hands was grasped tightly and someone gently held the other side of his face.

"Alan, just relax. It'll be ok. Scott will be back soon with your doctor."

"Sc..." Alan weakly tried to comprehend. He felt like he was going to throw up.

His father hushed him gently but by now Alan was focused only on fear and hence ignorant of this attempt at comfort. Frustrated, he pulled one hand up to his face and rubbed his eye in an attempt to open it. Immediately his hand was pulled away. Alan withdrew and attempted to shuffle his body away from this interference. But as he did pain screamed through his body, radiating from his shoulder, chest and knee. Alan let out a cry of shock.

Suddenly, a new voice penetrated the darkness. "Alan, can you hear me? My name is Dr. Quaid. Can you open your eyes for me?"

_No, it's too hard!_ Alan wanted to scream. But all he could manage was, "Mmmph!"

"Okay Alan, I'm just going to wipe your eyes with some water. It won't hurt," said Dr Quaid as something cool, soft and wet gently ran over his eyes. It felt heavenly. Alan could finally open his eyes. He was in a small cubicle with curtains drawn. Above him were three figures; his father to his right, a man he could only assume was Dr Quaid to his left and behind the doctor stood Scott. Alan squinted as his eyes adjusted to the bright light of the sterile environment.

"Well done," commended Dr Quaid. "Alan, do you know where you are?"

The light and familiar smells of antiseptic and latex gloves, combined with a vague memory of his father's earlier clarification, encouraged his guess. Alan nodded and immediately regretted it. Once again he had to rely on his voice. "H'sp'tal" he managed out.

"Good," Dr Quaid mused. "Do you remember the accident?"

Accident? _The roar. Screaming. A shattering sound following by a deafening bang. But no images. No memory._

Alan swallowed. "No, I can't," he whimpered, dismayed and frightened by this realisation.

Dr Quaid's brow creased slightly. "Okay, well that's to be expected with a head injury. Speaking of which, now that you're awake I'd like to run a few tests and another examination. We need to determine if any internal bleeding has developed or if anything needs monitoring."

Alan was confused. "What's wrong with me?" he asked, looking up to his father for any kind of comfort.

He was relieved when Jeff squeezed his hand. "Nothing serious at the moment, Alan. You've done some damage to your knee and shoulder and you've got a few broken ribs. They'll heal in time."

"The main concern we have is the head injury you sustained. In order to be able to assess you properly we wanted to wait until you regained consciousness," Dr Quaid told him, calmly.

Alan's head was reeling. "Wha...don't understand. What happened? Why can't I remember anything?" he asked, his vision going foggy as if he was about to faint. At first it scared him, but instead of passing out, he felt hot tears rolling down his face.

His Dad soothed him. "Hey, calm down. It's ok. Shhhh."

"Alan, you were in an accident," Scott told him, gently. "A truck crashed into your school bus on the way back to Wharton from an excursion."

Alan was thankful that someone had finally thought to tell him that detail, but it didn't help his confusion. Dr Quaid pulled him out of his thoughts. "Alan, are you in any pain?" he asked, pulling out his stethoscope and walking towards him.

Alan replied instantly. "M' head, on the side and...pretty much everything," he concluded. He couldn't think and his memory loss was troubling him. He was so confused. Fermat's horrified face pounced on his mind again, but he couldn't remember where it was from. Was Fermat in the accident? Was he ok? What had happened?

Again, he was intruded upon by Dr Quaid. "Alan, I'm just going to listen to your chest, okay? I'll be gentle, I promise."

Alan held out a hand to obstruct Dr Quaid's advance. "No," he murmured, frowning despite the pain it caused. He wanted answers first.

"Alan, I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to do a physical," Dr Quaid assured him.

Although Quaid's voice was calm, it irritated Alan, and he continued to resist the doctor in any way he was capable.

"No, stop. Just, just wait, please stop! I don't understand!"

The throbbing in his head intensified, making him elicit an involuntary groan.

Jeff was speaking to him now. "Alan, it's ok, just relax. It won't take very long."

"Fermat...wait! Just let me...just wait," Alan moaned, getting more agitated. More hands held him now; big mistake. "Let go! Stop it! Leave me alone!" he cried, now scared as to why they were not listening to him.

"Alan..."

"Alan, calm down..."

"Alan, it's all right..."

The voices were everywhere, invading his consciousness. The pounding in his head grew unbearable. "Just wait, just stop!"

"Wait for what Alan? What's wrong?" asked Scott, his voice filled with concern.

"Can't think...just stop it!" was all Alan could get out. He brought a hand to his head, his fingers trying to dig away the bandage in a vain and random attempt to stop the pain. Immediately he was restrained again. "Let go, please!" he cried, more tears running down his face.

Another sound pierced the atmosphere; an unrelenting, sharp beeping noise that was growing steadily faster.

Dr Quaid started to speak again, this time from above his head. "Alan, you need to calm down," he said sternly.

_Go away!_ Alan wanted to yell, but instead mumbled, "What?"

Now everything in his body hurt, the pain flaring particularly around his chest and stomach. He couldn't breathe! It hurt too much. It was so hot and they were smothering him. Why couldn't they give him space? All he wanted to do was think; all he wanted to do was remember; why was that so hard?

"Dad...it hurts...Da...please just give me some sp..." Alan cut his own gibbering off with a frustrated moan. The beeping was growing faster and louder. Dr Quaid gently put a hand under his chin, pulling his head up and placing a mask over his face. "Easy now, Alan. Just take some slow deep breaths for me," he instructed in a frightening stern voice.

Alan did not like that at all and once again he tried to raise a hand to fight the obstruction. He was either too weak or stopped as Quaid gently but firmly kept his head tilted upwards. The position was making Alan feel dizzy, or was that an effect of whatever it was he was being forced to inhale.

_No! I don't want that! I need to think!_ he silently protested. When he realised that struggling was useless on his part, he began to sob in despair. It hurt, but he did not know what else to do.

Why won't they listen to me? He couldn't keep track of what was happening, not even as the room spun into a black oblivion.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks so much for all of your reviews!**

**There was a question about the events of the last chapter that I feel I should clarify. It regarded Alan's awakening and why he was 'ignored' by Jeff, Scott and Quaid.**

**Alan's awakening was rather harsh. Physically and mentallyhe couldn't move. Being bombarded with information like 'you're in hospital' and instructions like 'just relax, don't move', from a patient's perspective, can be very frightening. Combine that with the memory loss, and you have one very stressed person. In these circumstances, when the patient becomes visibly upset, your first response is to try to calm them down, sometimes by restraining them (especially if they're likely to hurt themselves). Understandably, this cannot be very calming for Alan. Amidst trying to sort out his jumbled thoughts and memories, the sudden concern for his friend and the physical shock, Alan is scared and confused as to why the people around him won't listen to him. This causes him to panic and fight back, increasing the trauma to himself.**

**From Jeff, Scott and Quaid's perspective, they know that Alan is upset and they know the damage that could be caused, so their first reaction is to calm him. They understand his confused ramblings to be a result of trauma, and so quieting him is the only thing they can do. Because the scene was written from Alan's perspective, it appeared that they were ignoring him, as Alan's hysteria and paranoia dominated his thought processes. Alan's inability to calm himself from such a state results in his body effectively giving out.**

**This chapter will makes things clearer, but hopefully my explianation has helped. I'm hopeless at explaining such things! Nevertheless, if anybody has questions, I will try to answer them.**

**Boann**

Fermat was officially bored. His bruising was aching and he had nothing to take his mind off it. It was now well into the night and his father had fallen asleep in his chair, his chin resting on his chest and his glasses wobbling precariously on the end of his nose.

It was the perfect opportunity; one that Alan would use. Just a shuffle over to the edge of the bed and a few steps and he'd be able to see his best friend. He bit his lip and slowly slid to the side. His body protested against every movement, as did the voice in his head. _You're not allowed! Don't take the risk! You'll get into trouble!_ Fermat silently cursed himself when he paused, hanging over the side of the bed. He couldn't...Alan had been right all along. He didn't have the courage to take risks. He couldn't even get out of bed to see if his friend was all right.

"Fermat, what are you doing?"

Fermat looked up to see Scott in the doorway. Guiltily he carefully maneuvered himself back into bed. Brains still slept. "I just wanted to…" he ceased stammering when he saw Scott's disheveled face. Some was wrong. "How is Alan?" Fermat tentatively asked.

Scott approached and sat down on the side of the bed. "He woke up a little while ago," he said.

Fermat's eyebrows rose. "That's great!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah," Scott murmured half heartedly. Fermat wondered if he was keeping his voice down because of Brains or because he was upset. "It took a while for him to recognise us. He was in a lot of pain, I think. He was scared and confused and…"

Fermat wasn't going to allow Scott to trail off. "Then what?"

"He started to panic. I think he felt smothered. He couldn't remember the accident. The doctor doesn't think he was delusional, but it was clear that he was upset. We couldn't calm him down and he passed out. The doctor tried to give him oxygen to help but it didn't make any difference" Scott told him.

"Wh…wh…Is he going to be f…f…all right?" Fermat stuttered.

"The doc's running a few more tests now. Dad's in a mess," Scott said with an even softer voice.

"You don't look so g…g…wonderful yourself," Fermat said ina n attempt to console his friend.

Scott rubbed his face with both hands. "God!" he hissed. "I've never seen him like that Fermat. Never! He must have been petrified. He was asking for you," he added as an after thought.

"Really?" Fermat's heart soared. "What did he say?"

Scott shook his head. "Nothing coherent."

Fermat's excitement deflated like a balloon.

Scott gave a ragged sigh. "Well, I'd better get back to Dad before he wears a hole in the floor with his pacing."

"Scott," Fermat offered a weak smile. "He'll be f…f…okay. Will you t…t…inform me when the test results come back?"

Scott nodded and left without another word.

_It's going to be ok_, Fermat told himself. _Alan's just creating a little drama, that's normal._

But despite these self reassurances, the desire to get out of bed and see his friend grew stronger than ever.

TBTBTBTBTBTB

Scott returned to an anticpated sight. Jeff paced in front of the doors to Radiology, his brow creased. He looked up as Scott hesitantly approached. Scott saw the lines of tiredness etched across his father's face. "Dad…"

Jeff interrupted him, obviously not in the mood for his son's speech of concern. "He should be out soon."

Scott didn't have the energy to revert the subject and start an argument, so he murmured, "Good."

"I've called home and put them in the picture," Jeff told him.

Home! How could he have forgotten?

"How's Fermat?" Jeff questioned

"Physically, he looked exhausted. I don't think he's slept. I think he's too worried about Alan. I caught him sneaking out of bed, presumably to come and find him," Scott told him.

His father massaged his brow. "Two peas in a pod," he murmured. "It's scary how much Alan is rubbing off on that kid."

Scott smiled. "Yeah, it sure is worrying," he attempted to joke.

His smile immediately disappeared as the doors opened and Dr Quaid approached them.

Jeff spun around to follow Scott's gaze. "How is he?" he asked.

"Good news," said Quaid. "No sign of damage or bleeding. But it's obvious the trauma of his injuries is taking its toll. Alan woke up again during the scan but he was very groggy."

"He didn't have another panic attack?" Scott confirmed.

The doctor shook his head.

"Could his lethargy be a sign of complications, like internal bleeding?" asked Jeff.

"That possibility did occur to me, but after running a thorough examination and finding no such evidence, I'm confident it is simply stress," Quaid explained. "Don't worry, I'm not about to turn a blind eye just yet. I'll be keeping a very close watch over him."

"Can we see him?" asked Scott, slightly pleading.

Quaid nodded. "He's been taken back to ICU so he can be closely monitored."

"Thank you," said Scott, as he and his father took off at a jog towards the elevators.


	5. Chapter 5

"Alan can you hear me?"

The voice was vaguely familiar and sounded like it was speaking underwater. But it was comforting; a reassurance that he wasn't alone. His curiosity fought every urge he had to sink back down into the dark. His whole body hurt, and the side of his face, covered with gauze, felt disgustingly sweaty.

"Alan can you open your eyes for me?"

Normally he would have laughed at the stupid question, but lately such a simple action had been difficult and unpleasant. Nevertheless, his curiosity at the familiarity of the voice inspired his distinctive determination. As he lifted his eyelids sluggishly, his face stung and everything was a blur. But after blinking several times, the world began to right itself.

A woman in her late twenties with tonged blond hair stood above him with a boyish smile on her face. Her hands were gentle on his arm. "Hey Alan, remember me?" she asked.

_Yes, I remember_, he wanted to reply, but to his frustration, he could only let out a hoarse, "Yeah."

It was Maddy, the nurse from Radiology; his nurse, apparently. It had been quite a shock waking up inside a machine, but her comforting words and soft touch had calmed him. Somehow she'd gotten through enough for him to understand what was going on. "Welcome back, kiddo," she smiled. "You're back in Intensive Care."

"Oh," was Alan's reply.

"Your Dad and brother should be here soon."

"Great."

Maddy smiled at his sarcasm. She'd managed to cover the events of his initial return to consciousness whilst in Radiology. Alan couldn't remember anything, but that didn't impede the embarrassment he felt over causing such a commotion.

Maddy gently touched his unhurt shoulder. "Don't worry, kiddo. It was a perfectly natural reaction considering what you've been through," she assured him.

Alan didn't reply.

"Okay," Maddy tried again more cheerfully. "I'm going to raise your bed up a bit, how does that sound."

"That'd be great," Alan admitted. Lying on his back unable to see what was going on had certainly grown frustrating. He gave a yawn as he was being lifted and immediately regretted it as he felt one or two stitches pull.

Maddy noticed his grimaced. "Easy, you okay?" she checked.

"Mmhmm," Alan replied, reluctant to open his jaw again.

At that moment, the curtains were pulled back and in strode two of the three people he wanted to see. "Dad. Scott." he hoarsely murmured.

"Alan!" his father smiled, reaching him in two strides and holding him gently.

"Dad, I'm sorry," Alan gasped.

His father pulled away, a frown on his features. "For what?"

Alan swallowed nervously. "For freaking out earlier."

He was shocked to see his father smile. "Don't be silly, Alan. It wasn't your fault."

"Can we get him something to drink?" asked Scott, who'd taken up a position on Alan's left side. Alan smiled softly at his brother's intuitive mother-hen routine. Scott never missed anything, such as Alan's speech becoming more and more strained.

Maddy gave him a sympathetic look. "Sorry, sir. Dr Quaid has ordered nil by mouth for the next twenty four hours to be safe," she replied. "I'll leave you guys alone. If you need anything just press the buzzer." She closed the curtains behind her.

Scott sighed. "Sorry sprout."

Alan could only raise the corners of his mouth in an attempt to say, 'It's okay.' By now the pain had become intolerable and he was growing tired. But something still poked at him, and he couldn't ignore it any longer. "Dad, how's Fermat?" he whispered. He'd thought of nothing else.

His father hushed him, sitting to his right. "Fermat's going to be fine. He's a right sight better than you are right now."

_Thank God._ Alan's smile was more of a grimace. His father began to gently stroke his hair back from his forehead, a gesture that always encouraged Alan to relax. For a few moments he was lulled into the familiar trance, but quickly snapped himself out of it. "Dad, I wanna see Fermat," he said.

Jeff only continued to perform the hypnotic motion. "Shhhh. You have to stay in bed, son. You're not out of the woods yet," he said with a gentle firmness.

_I'm awake aren't I?_ Was Alan first thought. He must have allowed it to slip from his mouth, because Scott said, "We know, sprout. But the doctor's still not certain whether you could be bleeding internally and wants to keep you in bed."

_But I wanted to see Fermat_, Alan wanted to argue, but he knew he wasn't going to win. Instead he closed his eyes, furrowing his brow in frustration, and before he knew it he was sinking back down into oblivion.

TBTBTBTBTBTBTB

"Sir, I strongly advise against this. Please get back into bed."

Sarah was a sweet girl, but Fermat wasn't in the mood for listening.

"I'll be fine," he assured with a grimace as he took a step from the bedside towards the door, pulling his I.V pole along with him. _It isn't that hard, really_, he said to himself, even though with every step he could swear he heard his bones creaking. He'd waited hours and to him, that was too long. Scott hadn't returned to tell him about Alan, which signified the possibility that something was wrong. He was going to find out himself.

Beside him, his father hovered, his hands raised nervously as if touching Fermat was going to make the boy fall over. "S...s...Fermat, please. I'm s...s...positive Alan is fine," he reasoned.

"No, you're n..." Fermat was defeated by the sentence. He had watched his father during experiments long enough to know Brains' 'positive voice', and this was not it. The only way he was going to get the answers he wanted was to get up. He was ready to crawl if he had to.

"Fermat," Sarah blocked his way. "Listen to me. You may not be among the critically injured, but you're still in a bad way and exerting yourself may cause complications."

"Then g...find me a wheelchair," Fermat said. "I'm going to see my f...f...Alan with or without your h...h...assistance!"

Sarah looked to Brains for help, but Brains appeared to be stunned and could only look back and forward between the two. Sarah sighed and held up a hand. "Stay right there. I'll be back."

Fermat paused, long enough for his father to finally gain the courage to touch his shoulder. "I admire your c...c...stamina, son," he said. "But this is r...r...s...s..."

"Insane?" Fermat finished for him. "So are the th...th...foolish things Alan would do for me."

Despite his obvious uncertainty, his father gave him a small smile. Sarah returned with a wheelchair, into which she helped Fermat. "Just a quick trip, you hear?" she clarified.

Fermat nodded, smiling for the first time all day.

TBTBTBTBTBTBTB

Alan didn't sleep very long. When he woke up, his father and Scott were still there. He inhaled deeply, slowly rousing himself. It was rather difficult though; he was so tired.

His father perked up when he saw him. "Hey," he smiled. "That wasn't even a catnap."

Alan offered a smile, swallowing in preparation to speak. _God, I'm thirsty_. "More than you've gotten."

Jeff's smile widened.

Scott joined in the conversation. "Hey sprout, you just missed the family. Gave them a call back home and let them know how you're doing. They really wanted to talk to you."

Alan nodded, unable to smile. It required too much energy, which was strangely depleted. _Should have slept longer_, he mused.

"Hey," Scott said. "Better make the most of your sleep. Quaid should be back soon to give you another exam."

"Joy," Alan said thickly. Just the thought of more poking and prodding was making him nauseous. He grimaced and closed his eyes, attempting to ignore the sensation. His eyes snapped open when the curtains were pulled back.

"Excuse me, Mr Tracy," said a young nurse, poking her head in. "Your son has a visitor. May I let him in?"

_Visitor?_ Alan didn't have a clue who it could be.

Jeff looked at him for consent.

_If it's nobody important, I want to go back to sleep_, Alan thought. "Who is it?" he asked, softly.

The nurse drew back the curtain, revealing...

"Fermat!" His exclamation was more of a croak, but it was enthusiastic nonetheless.

"Alan!" his friend beamed, coming to his bedside . "You're okay!"

Alan cringed when he saw Fermat in a wheelchair. The nausea was increased by his apprehension. "What about you?" he asked.

"Just a c...c...few bruises," Fermat told him. "And a dislocated shoulder. Nothing I can't h...h...cope with."

Alan swallowed down bile. _Out of relief_, he thought. "That's good," he whispered.

A small cough from the end of his bed announced Brains, who was smiling warmly. Unable to manage words, Alan returned his smile.

"I thought you were..." Fermat started to say.

Alan flopped his good arm onto Fermat's as a gesture of reassurance.

"So the last ex...ex...tests went okay?" Fermat confirmed.

Alan closed his eyes tiredly and nodded. He'd better get this over with before he fell asleep again.Sighing, he asked his father, "Can we have some privacy for a minute?"

Jeff nodded, his eyes showing concern, but understanding. After his father had ushered everyone outside and closed the curtain, Alan turned to Fermat. "How are you really?"

Fermat looked at him with big eyes. "A lot better than y...y...Alan I was so worried."

Alan smiled softly. "You shouldn't have been," he mumbled. "Not after the way I spoke to you yesterday."

Fermat looked down. "We both said..."

"No," Alan interrupted. The nausea was rising again and he felt like a bird about to fall off its perch. "Fermat, listen," he said, swallowing. "I was an arse. You were right, you always are."

Fermat frowned, shaking his head. "Alan..."

"I was stupid and I'm sorry," Alan continued. "You know I didn't mean to tease you about your..." _Okay, now I'm going to be sick_. He fought back the bile with a grimace, unsteadily pushing himself up with his good arm in an attempt to manoeuvre himself sideways to stop himself throwing up all over himself.

Fermat's frown deepened. "Alan, are you okay?" he asked, nervously.

"I'm fine," Alan whispered, but it was a lie. _Getting up must've have been a bad idea_, he mused as Fermat's face blurred. He sagged back onto the bed, his ribs protesting against being leant on.

Fermat looked scared. "Alan, wh...wh..."

"'M fine..." Alan murmured. As long as he kept saying that, he'd be okay. As long as he kept saying that, his friend wouldn't be scared anymore. That was his job; to look after Fermat, to protect him and stick up for him. As long as he said that, Fermat wouldn't be scared or sad.


	6. Chapter 6

**My apologies for the delays. This chapter had me in a bit of a pickle, but everything runs downhill from here so hopefully updates will resume their frequency. Thanks a lot for your reviews, they keep me going!**

**Boann**

Fermat could only scream, "Help! Mr Tracy!"

Without a pause, the curtain was flung open and Jeff, Scott, Brains and Sarah rushed in.

"Alan?" Jeff called, moving straight to his son.

Scott stuck his head outside the cubicle, yelling for help. Sarah pressed the emergency call button and began to reading Alan's vitals.

"His BP's falling," she announced, lowering his bed flat and acting to administer oxygen to Alan, who was now unconscious.

"Alan?" Fermat called, trying to wake his friend, who'd been talking to him mere seconds ago.

Someone grabbed his wheelchair and pulled him backwards as more people rushed in. A male doctor strode in and began barking orders and the madness increased. Fermat could only stare as he was pulled out of the cubicle. Alan...He'd been fine. What had gone wrong? He said he was fine.

_I didn't even get to tell him I'm sorry_, Fermat realised. _Alan might die and he'll never know how proud I am of him, how much I look up to him and love him as my brother._ _It's not fair!_

It took him a while to realise his father, behind him, was pushing the wheelchair away from the commotion. "N...no!" cried Fermat, twisting his head around to catch a glimpse of the action behind them. Brains was walking them swiftly back to his room. "Dad, stop!" he cried, tears forming in his eyes. _I have to see him, I have to tell him..._

"It's alright, son. He'll be okay. I'm positive," his father gently reassured.

Once again, his father's voice betrayed him.

_No, you're not_

TBTBTBTBTBTB

Jeff was standing with Scott just inside the curtain, refusing to be removed from the area. What had gone wrong? Why hadn't they seen something? One minute his son was sitting up and talking, the next he was lying unconscious. _Alan you're going to kill me one day_.

A male nurse held his arm. "Please, sir. You're best to wait in the quiet room. I promise we will let you know-"

"I'm not leaving. I know the drill. I've been here plenty of times before and I am telling you that I am not leaving," Jeff spoke to the nurse as if he was back in military.

He was trying to catch the words that were being thrown around.

"BP's still dropping..."

"Stat's are failing..."

"There's not enough distension in the abdomen to confirm a bleed big enough to-"

"His condition is enough to confirm..."

"I want him in theatre. Move!" Dr Quaid called. He approached Jeff and Scott. "I'm sorry Mr Tracy, we have to take Alan up to theatre. It looks like a bleed."

"But you said you'd watch him! You said you wouldn't let this happen!" Scott exclaimed.

"I know, Mr Tracy, but as thorough as we were, we cannot always be one-hundred percent positive. I warned that the next twenty four hours would reveal the good or bad news. Right now my focus is to get Alan through this," Quaid said, firmly.

Jeff nodded. "What do I need to sign?" he asked, ready to speed up the process.

Quaid indicated to the left. "Talk to Jackie in admin, she'll help you. I'm taking Alan up immediately."

Jeff nodded. Parting with his son for a second time was just as difficult as the first. He didn't even stop to look at Alan. He'd seen the image before him too many times to be able to bear seeing his youngest in such a state.

TBTBTBTBTBTB

"Dad! Please!"

"Fermat, stay st...st..."

Fermat was in pain. But his injuries had been forgotten long ago. His insides were screaming. He wanted to go back, but after being threatened with restraints, he had no choice to resign to his bed, where his father struggled to calm him down.

Fermat finally slumped back against his pillows. He was crying and he hated that fact. _Alan wouldn't cry. Alan never cries._

"Son," his father looked at him pleadingly. "It will be o...o...just fine. We can't give up h...h...faith. Just breathe."

His father was right. His breathing held the familiar wheeze of his asthma and an attack was the last thing he needed. "Dad, I didn't t...t...get to say," he stuttered. "It's all my fault."

Brains frowned. "What do you m...m...how is it your fault?" he asked, perplexed.

"I must have d...d...caused it all. The nurse said Alan needed r...r...sleep and I ignored her. I was selfish!" Fermat cried. "Now he's going to d...d..."

He couldn't finish as his father pulled him into an embrace. Fermat let out a sob. "We had a f...f...argument on the bus. I said t...t...some stuff. I didn't get to say s...s..."

"Alan won't remember a s...s...trivial argument," Brains told him. "He'll remember his best friend."

"Some friend," sniffed Fermat.

Brains tutted and rubbed his back comfortingly.

"Alan's always been th...th...he's always helped me out," said Fermat, pulling away. "And now I know why. It's because I s...s...He feels sorry for me."

"Enough, Fermat!"

Both father and son jumped at Scott's stern voice.

Scott marched up to Fermat's bed. "You listen here," he said with a tone Fermat had never heard him use before; at least not to him. "Alan needs you right now. You can't give up on him! What do you think he'd say if he saw you like this?"

Fermat was lost for words. But after a thought he smiled. "He would d...d... probably hit me," he replied.

Scott nodded. "He stays with you not because he feels sorry for you, but because he cares so much about you. You're his best friend, Fermat and needs you now more than ever," he said.

Fermat nodded slowly, unnerved by Scott's forcefulness, but finding strength in his words.

Scott pulled back and let out a ragged sigh, rubbing his face with one hand. "I'm sorry Fermat," he murmured, sounding exhausted.

Fermat knew how he felt. "It's okay," he replied, trying to wipe away any evidence of his tears with his sleeve.

Scott took one step towards him, as if about to say something, then took two steps back as if to change his mind. "I'll make sure they send someone to tell you the results," he said, walking out of the room before Fermat could thank him.

Scott was right, he had to be strong, for others as well as Alan.


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the delay in updating! Writer's block seems to be punishing me ruthlessly for making my characters suffer so much! LOL. Although this is only a short chapter, I hope it will fill in a gap or two, rather than jumping from one situation too quickly. I also apologise for any gramatical errors resulting from my haste in posting this. Many thanks again for your reviews! They inspire me to continue!**

**Boann**

He felt absolutely terrible. He couldn't move, but realistically, he had no desire to move. Sounds were too distant to be clear. Light flashed rhythmically above him. He felt unnerved; like a tranquilised animal ready to escape. He was smothered by all manner of contraptions and rows of hands gripped the rails of his cage.

He blinked slowly; even such a rudimentary reaction was excruciatingly sluggish. Time had no meaning. His own heartbeat thundering through him counted the seconds for him. Images above him refused to completely define themselves. The light remained though; a single strip of light constantly passing him overhead, as if it were on a turnstile going around and around without interruption. Focusing on this glow, he somehow managed to deduce that it was not the light that was moving; it was him. However, despite the curiosity sparked by this new awareness, he did not have the will or the ability to understand how his movement was possible. The effortlessness of accepting the facts helped to settle and calm him. 

He couldn't swallow, and he didn't want to try again. Someone had thrust a beehive down his throat. A loud noise; much alike to the sound of someone kicking through a door, prompted him to look down from where he lay flat. Such effort remained useless, as by the time he had completed the action, his eyelids had closed to a point where he couldn't see anything at all. He was aware of a new light though; a harsh, clean light that made the muscles in his brow clench. He tried to breathe; to make a sound that would alert whoever was with him to his disapproval of this fierce burst. His right hand was held; at least, he believed it to be his right hand. The other hand did not receive such a soothing touch. It received a pinch instead. Then something cold, like a worm, wriggled up his hand and arm. Before he could withdraw, a black fog arose from under his eyes and soon he knew no more.

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB

Scott ran his hand over his mouth, turning around to once again resume his slow, pointless walk to the other side of the room. His father sat with his head propped in one hand, staring at the cup of cold coffee held in the other. He hadn't said a word since they'd been ushered into the Quiet Room. In a sudden burst of despair, Scott had found the words to comfort and support Fermat but, for the life of him, he could summon no such inspiration now. Jeff had seen so much of his family's suffering that it felt wrong to try and console him. In the end, Scott settled for the tense silence. 

But something was nagging him. Words that had been spoken hours before poked him in the side, finally spurring him to cease his pacing and initiate some conversation. "Do you blame him?"

His soft question gained a reaction. His father looked up and frowned. "Blame who?" he asked with a tired voice.

"Alan," Scott replied, folding his arms over his chest.

Jeff's hand dropped from his head. "What are you talking about?"

Scott leant against the wall and looked down at the floor. "Before, in Alan's ward, you said that Alan will be the death of you," he explained. He faced his father's gaze. "Why did you say that?" he asked. "Do you blame him in some way for what has happened, for bringing you here to face this kind of pain again?"

Jeff closed his eyes as a gesture of confusion. "Scott..."

"Just answer the question," Scott interrupted, returning his gaze to the floor. 

He heard his father sigh. "I wish I could blame Alan. Hell, I wish I could blame someone," Jeff admitted. 

Scott looked up to listen.

"Being Jeff Tracy certainly has its perks," Jeff said with a smile. "I can summon some of the richest and most important people in the world to my office. I can live life without worrying that I have nothing to give my children to support them after I'm gone." His father paused and dropped his gaze to the cup in his hand. "But for the life of me, I can't ever seem to keep you boys safe."

As much as Scott understood and sympathised, he insisted, "You haven't answered the question."

Jeff looked up, his face forlorn. "Of course I don't blame your brother. This was an accident, as were all the others. You and your brothers seem to find your way into the middle of accidents," he said.

"Then why did you say that? As if Alan was driving you crazy on purpose. I just don't understand why you said it," Scott admitted. He may have been pushing it. Maybe it was a result of his emotions running high. He tried to believe that it wasn't in pursuit of an emotional outlet. Nothing much made sense at the present time.

"In all honesty," said Jeff. "I don't know. Maybe it was stress or frustration at things going wrong. I'm not excusing what a said," he added at Scott's frown. "But I didn't mean to make it sound like I was holding Alan responsible for what happened."

Scott was still upset with his father, but he nodded anyway. Better to resolve than let the conversation progress into an argument. They didn't need that right now.

The door opening couldn't have come at a better time. A ragged-looking Dr Quaid stepped through, acknowledging them both with a grim smile.

Jeff leapt off the chair, coffee discarded.

"How did it go?" asked Scott, his voice trembling more than his hands. 

Dr Quaid let out a sigh of exhaustion, which sent Scott's heart plummeting into his stomach, and replied. "Alan's going to be fine."


	8. Chapter 8

**Here it is! The final chapter. This story could have gone many places, but I tried as best I could to stay true to my original goal of focusing on Alan and Fermat. Thank you to everyone for your patience and your reviews. I'll see you again very soon!**

**Boann**

"Alan?" someone murmured gently into his ear. _Oh yeah_, he thought. _I'm supposed to be awake._

Pulling back the curtains over his eyes, he found himself looking upon a familiar face.

"Scott."

Alan's first reaction was to say his brother's name but it didn't quite make it from his dry mouth. His brother seemed to understand, though, and despite the wires and monitors around himself being effective obstructions, Alan was enveloped in an awkward, but sincere hug. His Dad held his hand and smiled in a way Alan hadn't seen him smile in a long time. It revealed an exhaustion overcome with relief.

"Don't ever scare me like that again, okay?" Jeff softly told him.

Alan didn't miss the glassiness of his father's eyes, nor the dark cloud behind Scott's glance at his words.

Too tired to question his brother's glare, Alan merely nodded at his father. It had been an interesting 24 hours, or so he had been told. When he had woken earlier that day, he had been greeted by Dr Quaid, who had been in the middle of an examination. The first thing that Alan noticed was that he was no longer in his cubicle, rather a clean, quiet room filled with monitors. Dr Quaid, had obviously noticed his confusion and had kindly explained to him the events that had occurred.

"I've got to hand it to you, Alan, you've done very well," he had said with a smile. "But no more surprises, okay?"

Alan hadn't really been coherent enough to understand what the doctor had meant. He had been more occupied with the tube rammed down his throat, to be honest. But after that had been removed, Dr Quaid had offered the chance to see his family, which was appreciated. Alan had tried to stay awake after Dr Quaid had disappeared, but what he presumed to be the effects of anaesthesia were reluctant to disappear. Immediately after he'd closed his eyes however, he had been shaken awake by Scott.

Alan felt like he'd been squashed to a pulp as his body started to regain awareness, but that didn't stop his thought processes. His thoughts settled on a particular subject.

"Where's Fermat?"

He must have unconsciously interrupted what looked like Dr Quaid's briefing on his condition, but he wasn't too bothered by his own rudeness.

Scott rubbed his shoulder. "He's fine, Alan."

_Then why isn't he here? Doesn't he want to see me? Oh God, does he hate me for what I said to him? I didn't mean it! I've gotta tell him…_

His body must have been reacting to his thoughts, because Jeff and Scott's gentle touch became a firm grip.

"Alan," his father's voice grabbed his attention. "Don't put yourself through this again, alright?"

Alan was slightly confused by his father's words, but Scott immediately stepped in. "Just relax. You'll be able to see Fermat in a moment, okay?"

Focused on his brother's face, Alan nodded and relaxed. He rested his head to one side, murmuring, "Can you get him?"

To his right, his father sighed. Alan had a feeling he was pushing his luck, but he refused to let anything distract him from what he had to do.

"If you get him, I'll do it myself," he said, his voice strengthening.

Scott's hand increased the pressure on his arm, as if he was preparing to hold him down, but his effort wasn't needed. Jeff nodded. "Stay here," he quietly ordered, exiting through the door followed by Dr Quaid.

Alan sighed with contentment, turning his attention to his older brother. "So," he said. "What's up with you and Dad?"

Scott's surprise was noticeable. "What do you mean?"

_You're not the only one who can __pull off the mother hen act,_ Alan thought, replying, "You guys seem tense, like you do when you've had a fight."

Scott averted his gaze, busying himself with stroking Alan's hand. "It's nothing," he sighed. "Just butting heads."

Alan gave him a look he hoped would show that he was unconvinced, but Scott remained silent. They sat there together for a short while, before the door opened and Fermat wheeled himself in. The boy-genius's smile stretched past his face.

"Alan!"

"Hey, Brainiac."

From the doorway, Jeff and Brains smiled. "We'll give you some space. Will you be okay?"

Alan nodded as Jeff, Scott and Brains left.

As soon as he and Fermat were alone, butterflies began dancing in his stomach. But he knew what he had to do.

"We've had an interesting week, huh?" he said.

Fermat rested an arm on the bed. "You could say t...t...yes," shifting in the wheelchair.

"How are you?" Alan asked, noticing that his friend had not yet banished the contraption.

Fermat smiled. "Good. The doctor says I can leave t...t...the day after today," he said.

Alan's smile was genuine. "That's good."

The silence that followed did nothing to ease the awkwardness, so in the end Alan blurted out, "I'm sorry."

Fermat looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Alan looked down. "On the bus, I said some things that...they weren't fair," he admitted. "And they weren't true," he finished, meeting Fermat's gaze.

Fermat smiled sheepishly. "Me too," he said. "What I said about your family..."

"It's okay," Alan assured him. "I guess we both acted like jerks when really...the truth is...I couldn't do anything without you."

"Don't be silly Alan, we both have our a...a...different personalities," Fermat told him. "We actually have a tendency to bounce off each other really well."

"And argue really well, too," Alan smiled, which gained a laugh from Fermat.

Alan was uplifted by his friend's laughter, and soon he could only join in, before wincing. But the pain didn't matter. Fermat's hand closing around his own was enough to make him realise what he had.

TBTBTBTBTBTB

The next week, Alan was being pushed in a wheelchair of his own out of the hospital, where Fermat was waiting for him outside. "Welcome b...b...is it good to be out of there?" asked his friend.

Alan sighed and stretched dramatically. "You bet!"

From behind him, his father said, "Easy, sprout. You're not ready to run any triathlons yet."

"But how awesome is it that I get out just in time for the end of term? No school!" Alan grinned.

"That reminds me," Fermat perked up. "I took the liberty of going to all our teachers for you. They've all given me some work for you to do to catch up. I t...t...assure you the essay we had to do for geography was so fascinating!"

Alan could only groan.


End file.
